


Game On, Girlfriend

by sawickies



Category: Hockey RPF, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Multi, National Hockey League, Pittsburgh Penguins/Washington Capitals Rivalry, Rivalry, initial hateship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5234702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawickies/pseuds/sawickies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I swear to god, Bellamy, if we go into overtime in my first game as Captain I'm going to lose it," Clarke said, watching as her teammates turned the puck over again. Bellamy glanced at her with a smirk.<br/>"Aw, what kind of attitude is that? Overtime just means you get another shot at a three-point game."</p><p>Or</p><p>The Penguins/Capitals NHL rivalry AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game On, Girlfriend

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone who follows me on tumblr probably should have seen this coming.
> 
> The focus is much more on the characters of The 100 than on the RPF, so I hesitated to tag it at all, but they're obviously mentioned and plenty of other players will make appearances since it is, after all, an NHL AU. If anyone has an issue with it, let me know and I will take it under advisement.
> 
> I'll add tags for relationships and characters as they become relevant because for a few of them I'm not sure how significant they'll be. Anyway, enjoy!

Clarke was fairly predictable in her stress-relief habits, which was why it shouldn’t have been surprising for her when she felt a pair of eyes watching her from the sidelines at the Lemieux Sports Center as she practiced her wrist shots. Without looking over, she figured three things:

It was Bellamy.

He was worried.

He wanted to talk about the captain thing. 

She ignored him for a bit, keeping her focus on finishing out the exercise she’d started before she noticed him. The messy pile of pucks next to her was dwindling anyway; he could wait while she threw the last few into the corners of the net. 

The loud, repetitious smack of her stick hitting the pucks continued until ice beside her was empty. Momentarily satisfied, she unbuckled her helmet and turned to where Bellamy was watching her. 

He gave her a small smile as she skated over to him, coming to lean against the boards and pulling off a glove to fiddle with a loose bit of tape on the handle of her stick.

“What are you doing here, Bells?” she asked, focusing on the tape rather than looking at her teammate. “Training camp’s over, and the first game isn’t until tomorrow. 

He shrugged, “I could ask you the same thing, Princess.” Clarke had to force herself not to visibly cringe at the nickname. Bells was one of the few people she didn’t take exception to using it, but even from him it sometimes left a bitter taste in her mouth. Especially on a day like today. 

“You’re gonna wear yourself out before the season even gets going if you keep this up,” he continued, “How long have you been out here?” She shrugged without looking at him, stuffing her gloves in her helmet.

He chuckled. “You need to relax, Griffin. You’re no good to us all wound up like this.” 

She glared at him. “I am not ‘wound up’, Bellamy. I’m just a little nervous, as I think should be expected, all things considered.” She moved to open the board door and walk past him, but he held it shut with a smirk. 

“All things being the fact that this is your inaugural season as Clarke Griffin, Captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins?” She folded her arms across her chest with a pointed look, but before she could reply, he held a hand up to cut her off.

“Clarke, chill out. You’re gonna be a great captain. You need to stop worrying.” He stood aside and pulled the gate open, letting her step off the ice. 

“Easy for you to say, bucko. All the pressure’s off you, now.” Bellamy scoffed as they started toward the locker rooms.

“Um, excuse you, Griffin, but I’m still an Alternate Captain in case you forgot.” he said, bumping her with his shoulder. She stumbled on her skates and had to grab his shirt collar to stop from tumbling over, sparking a fit of laughter from her teammate. 

“Princess of the Penguins, graceful as usual,” he said as she steadied herself and shoved him off, her smile betraying her true humor even as she flipped him the bird and pushed through the locker room door. 

Clarke plopped down on the bench in front of her locker to pull off the rest of her gear, Bellamy watching her with his arms folded over his chest. Clarke could feel his eyes on her as she leaned over to unlace her skates. She could tell he wanted to say something, but the locker room remained eerily quiet as she unlaced one skate and moved to the other. After another beat with nothing but the sounds of the shuffling laces in her hands, she couldn’t take it anymore.   

“Was there something you needed?” she asked, glancing up at her winger. She saw Bellamy’s fingers twitching against his arm before he finally said,

“I just think you should cut yourself a little slack, is all.” She sat up and looked at him, using her heels to kick off her loosened skates as she waited for him to continue.

“You’ve been a leader on this team since the minute you were called up. At this point the title’s just a formality,” he shrugged.

“You’re gonna be great, and you don’t need to put so much pressure on yourself. You’ve got me and Finn backing you up.” Clarke let out a sstilted laugh as she stood up to pull off her training jersey.

“Yeah, well, r egardless of your faith in my skills as Captain,” she said as she drew the material over her head and tossed it into her locker.

“I think we’ve proven now, more times than we can count, that it takes more than a good captain to have a good season.” Bellamy shook his head with a smile.

“Ouch, Griffin. Just ouch.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and sighed, slumping against her stall. 

“You know I don’t mean you, Bells.” She paused and bit her lip, reflecting on what had been bothering her since they’d started training camp.

“We have an awesome roster on paper,” she started, “everyone’s healthy, we've looked alright in practice. We have a lot of really strong players,” she paused again, searching for the right words and scratching frustratedly at her forehead. 

“But something’s still off?” Bellamy supplied, arms still crossed. Clarke nodded.

“Yeah. I don’t know what it is,” she turned away from Bellamy, glancing down the column of lockers in the training space and picturing the team as they would be in a less than a day—here, prepping for their final practice before the season started. 

“I feel like we finally have all the right pieces, but they just aren’t clicking the way they should.” She looked back to him, adding,

“As captain, aren’t I the one who’s supposed to figure that out? Supposed to make it fit?” Bellamy looked her over quietly for a moment, considering her words. Finally he shook his head.

“Honestly Clarke? You’re trying to carry to much.” He put a hand on her shoulder, his dark eyes serious as he continued. “We’re a team, okay? You’re not the only one responsible for making the pieces fit.” Clarke opened her mouth to argue but Bellamy cut her off.

“Nuh-uh, Clarke. I’m serious. Chill out. The season hasn’t even started yet. Worrying about shit that hasn’t even happened yet isn’t going to do anyone any good, least of all you.” He patted her on the shoulder, ignoring her crossed arms and pout as he turned to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at practice,” he called over his shoulder as he left the locker room, “try not to run yourself into the ground before then.”  

———

When she left the Sports Complex to go home, Clarke turned her phone on for the first time since that morning. She’d always been in the habit of keeping her phone off during practice time, even though she usually kept it in the locker room anyway. She liked to thing it increased her focus just a little bit more. 

The moment she turned it on today, though, a bevy of texts came pouring in. Glancing through them briefly she realized they were congratulatory texts from everyone from close friends to unknown numbers. Escaping the fanfare of the announcement by neglecting to do a presser and retreating to the Lemieux Center clearly wasn’t as successful as she’d hoped, but at least the messages all seemed to be positive reactions.

As her apartment building came into view, Clarke noticed a familiar face sitting in front of it. 

“Can’t seem to shake you Blakes today,” Clarke said to the waiting girl as she approached. Octavia grinned at her and popped up from the wooden bench. 

“That’s what you get for having both of us on your team, Cap.” Clarke shook her head as she unlocked the front entrance door.

“Well that’s not my fault or my choice, so I think I should be allowed to complain.” Despite her words she held the door open for Octavia, the younger girl skipping past her and starting up the stairs to Clarke’s floor.

“Where’s your better half?” Clarke asked as they reached her door, moving to unlock it as Octavia huffed behind her.

“She’s reorganizing her room for, like, the millionth time,” Octavia didn’t even bother asking permission as she made directly for Clarke’s bedroom, dropping into the computer chair there as the blonde followed and took up a spot on her bed.

“I couldn't stand the sound of scraping furniture for another goddamned second.” Clarke rolled her eyes with a smile at her friend’s antics, watching as the girl booted up Clarke’s laptop without a thought.

“You could have helped her or something.”

Octavia snorted. “Pfft. I already moved all my furniture into my tiny-ass room, I’m not moving hers, too.” Clarke shook her head and absently scrolled through her texts—they were still pouring in, but she figured it might be time to start answering them.

“Dammit Clarke, you changed your password?”

Clarke nodded vigorously, “Hell yes I did. Last time I let you use my computer I got pop-up ads advertising mail-order brides of various ethnicities for like, weeks.”

Octavia cackled, leaning back in the rolling chair. “Excellent! I’m going to get Bell’s next.” She glanced over at Clarke, sighing dramatically.

“I should have known something was up, you didn’t even put up a fight when I went for it this time.” 

“Mhm.” Clarke was doing her best to sound distracted as she pretended to ignore the girl in her computer chair, but she knew the onslaught of harassment was coming.

“…Clarke?”

“Yes, Octavia?”

“Can I please have your computer password?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Claaaaaarke,”

“…”

Octavia groaned. “I promise not to do anything immature or childish with your computer, ok? Will you please just unlock it for me?” Clarke’s response was a firm head-shake: no.

“But Claaaaarkeeeeee, Raven and I still don’t have wifi.”

Clarke sighed and glared at Octavia, who was giving her the should-be-patented Blake Puppy Dog Stare. Clarke absently wondered when exactly it happened that the Blake siblings could get her to do whatever they wanted her to as she got up unlock her computer, her approach met with a squeal of joy from Octavia. 

“There. No weird porn viruses, please?” Octavia nodded, eyes already glued to the screen. Clarke went back to sprawling out on her bed, alternating between politely answering texts and scrolling through various social media feeds. It must have been barely two minutes of silence before Octavia exclaimed,“There’s an article about you on Sportsnet!” 

Clarke sighed, but before she could get the first syllable of “I don’t want to hear what it says” out of her mouth, Octavia was shushing her and began to read:

“This afternoon the Pittsburgh Penguins announced that forward Clarke Griffin will officially succeed Sidney Crosby to the Captaincy for the season. This will be Griffin’s fifth season with the Penguins, and for the last two she served as alternate captain along with winger Bellamy Blake. 

The choice is an interesting one for the club, as it’s likely to intensify the classic rivalry between the Penguins and the Washington Capitals that gained traction in the Crosby-Ovechkin era, given the already tense relationship between Griffin and returning Capitals captain Lexa Boisvert. Additionally, many speculated the choice would be senior alternate captain and senior player Bellamy Blake. Blake has been with the Penguins for the last six seasons, and has been an alternate captain for the last four. When asked about the decision, Blake said,

‘I think it was a good choice, honestly, uh, Griffs is a great leader—‘ 

“—blah blah blah, fucking christ. Is this entire article seriously about Bellamy’s reaction to you making captain? They literally don’t even mention your name after the first paragraph.” Octavia spun in the computer chair to face where Clarke was focused intently on typing something out on her phone. All Octavia got was a grunt in response from the blonde.

“Clarke, seriously. How are you not more upset about this? There are like,” Octavia paused to turn back to the computer screen, “4 articles here, and all of them are about how surprised everyone is that Bellamy’s not the one that gets the C.”

Clarke huffed and rolled over on her stomach, facing Octavia but still looking at her phone.“Why should I care? Coach Jaha put my name forward, everyone on the team already listens to me,” she said, thinking back to her conversation with Bellamy. She locked her phone and dropped it on the bed, resting her chin on her hands as she watched Octavia continue scrolling through the newsfeed on sportsnet.

 Octavia tutted. “I can tell by your tone that you totally care, Clarkie-poo.” 

 Clarke huffed again, flopping her face down into the messy sheets of her bed and mumbling something unintelligible.

 “What was that? I couldn’t hear you over all of your apparent frustration at the news media for being stupid.” 

 Clarke chuckled and raised her head,“I said they can be as surprised as they want, it’ll just make it that much sweeter when we win the Cup this year.”

 Octavia turned to look at her smirking captain. “Think you can take us all the way, Princess?” 

Clarke groaned and rolled over, swinging her legs off the bed. “You know I fucking hate that nickname.” She crossed to her desk and started rifling through her drawers, ignoring Octavia’s snorts of laughter.

 “I know, oh man. I thought you were gonna punch Finn when we came into practice the day after that interview.”

 Clarke sighed. “It wouldn’t be so bad if those fuckheaded Caps hadn’t latched onto it so hard. It probably would have died out by now if they’d let it drop.” She pouted, “Everyone on the team actually calls me Griffs most of the time, anyway.”

 Octavia chuckled. “Yeah, in front of the cameras to make you feel better, Princess.” Clarke glanced down at Octavia with a sharp glare.

 “Aw, stop that, you know you love me,” Octavia said, feeling Clarke’s eyes on her. 

 “I know you’re a huge pain in the ass, actually.”

 Octavia gave Clarke a beaming smile in response, and Clarke laughed. “That wasn’t a compliment.”

 Octavia shrugged and pulled her phone, which had just chirped, out of her pocket. “If I’m annoying you then I’m doing my job, so I’m taking it as a compliment.”

 Clarke rolled her eyes and gave Octavia a shove. “You’re off the clock. You have been since April, and you’re supposed to annoy the other team, not your teammates.”

 Octavia hummed in acknowledgement, but she didn’t appear to be listening. She was grinning at her phone. Clarke flicked her on the forehead.

 “Hey! Fuck you!” Octavia flailed her free arm, swatting at Clarke, who swatted back. Octavia dropped her phone as the flailing devolved into a giggling slap fight. 

 That is, until Octavia leaned too far back and tipped her chair over, sending her sprawling to the floor. There was a second of tense silence before Clarke erupted into laughter.

Octavia sighed and shifted up onto her elbows to glare at the hysterical blonde. “And here I was going to invite you to go get burgers with Raven and I.”Clarke pinched her lips together in an effort to stifle her laughter. It worked for a second, until a snort broke through prompting an eye-roll from Octavia and another fit of giggles from Clarke.

“And I’m the immature one,” Octavia muttered as she got up.

 “Now now, I said annoying, not immature,” Clarke said, still laughing a little. Octavia stuck her tongue out, earning another laugh from Clarke, before asking, “whatever, you coming or not?”

 Clarke shrugged, following Octavia as she started for the front door. “Nah, I’m not really hungry. You guys go have fun.”

 “You sound like an old lady. Did you even do anything fun over the summer?” 

 Clarke scoffed, “Yes, I did fun things over the summer, shut up.”

 Octavia gave her an incredulous look as she opened the door. “As if. I bet when you get your day with the cup, you’re gonna be one of those people that uses it as like, a popcorn bowl while you watch romcoms on Netflix,” she said, laughing at her own mental image as Clarke gave her a short shove out the door. 

 “Fuck you. And don’t stay out too late with Razor, our first game’s tomorrow.” 

 Octavia backed down the hallway with a laugh, “Case and point! No fun.” 

 “Just reminding the girl who was scratched twice last season for being late to morning skate,” Clarke answered with a smug shrug.

 Octavia ignored her comment, instead waving with an “I’ll see you tomorrow!” as she headed for the end of the hall. 

 Clarke watched the young defenseman turn the corner into the staircase before pulling her head back into her apartment and shutting the door. 

 She wasn’t usually so antisocial. Normally she’d welcome an opportunity to go out with friends, maybe convince them to go out for a drink or two, although Octavia was still underage by US standards. Tonight though, despite Bellamy’s reassurances and her own words to Octavia earlier, she was nervous—too nervous for an afternoon out with friends to be relaxing. She didn’t want to bring the others down with her anxiety and worry, and she knew being around her teammates would just cause her to obsess endlessly over the possibilities for the game tomorrow. Instead she was opting to stay in, maybe watch a movie or two and put the thoughts of the game and season ahead out of her mind.  

 She returned to her bedroom and retrieved her phone and the charger she’d been fishing around her desk for, glancing over the latest stream of texts. They’d slowed down some, and she decided after she responded to the latest batch she’d put her phone on silent and ignore them for the rest of the evening. 

 Scrolling through and replied to notifications as she made her way back to the living room, Clarke stopped mid-step when she came to one near the bottom that read: 

Missed Call & Voicemail: Mom

 Her thumb hovered over it for a minute, and she bit her lip as she considered listening to it. Thinking back to the last time Clarke and her mother had discussed her career path she decided against it, instead putting her phone on Do Not Disturb mode and setting it up to charge far away from the couch where she was planning on speeding the majority of her night. The rest of the notifications could wait until tomorrow, and the last thing she wanted to deal with on the night before the season start was her mother’s thoughts on her recent promotion.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've never posted a multichap fic here before or even a chapter that's this long so bear with me on the formatting, I'm still working on getting it to look how I want. 
> 
> Next time: game time? but mostly just more team shenanigans and maybe some actual discussion of the rivalry ( ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡°)


End file.
